


Of Seasalt and Skies

by 8BitFey



Category: Fallen London | Echo Bazaar
Genre: SMEN Spoilers, Seeking Mr Eaten's Name (Fallen London)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-06
Updated: 2019-09-06
Packaged: 2020-10-06 05:43:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,446
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20501855
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/8BitFey/pseuds/8BitFey
Summary: A monster seeks out a doctor. He's in desperate need of help. He finds something else, but it's still technically a doctor, right?





	Of Seasalt and Skies

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first attempt at this pwease be nice.

The mess of blood and bile had all but become a blur paste across his shirt by this point.

He couldn't keep doing this. He couldn't keep tormenting himself like this. How many? How many times had he succumb to this hunger of his? The faint smell crisping of flesh and meat danced around him. His head hurt. His was mouth dry. And as always, he was empty, he was all so felt so empty. No matter how many times he'd gorge himself. It wouldn't be enough. It would _never_ be enough. His stomach was a bottomless pit, and it didn't matter what he did. He would crave. He would _always_ crave.

He'd look at his hands. They where stained. Tainted. Not by just blood, but every other sin he commited, for _this_. 

_The Name._

That's what he had been Seeking for. What he had given everything up for. His wife, his children, his job, his wealth. 

And it had left him hollow, everything had been a waste, everything for nothing in the end. Just for The Name. The Name**. **_The Name. _**_The Name._**

Every tear shredded. Every life taken. All for nought. 

_He couldn't keep doing this._

He hated himself, what he had let himself turn into. Was he even human anymore? He doubted it. He was a monster, plain and simple. But he couldn't letting himself get trapped in this cycle. He wanted out. Even if it meant he'd kill himself trying. Death would be a better outcome then what he'd become by this point.

Before he'd throw his life away, he'd been a Zalior. And a proud one at that. He'd remember the fresh taste of salt in the air, how the calming waters would smooth him, how he was at peace out there.

Yet these nostalgic moments had all been but dulled to him. He was out here for one reason. And one reason only.

His Pale Lordship. The Doctor.

Such names had no correlation in him, but he was not one to judge by this point. The Doctor, or as rumours painted him to prefer, Dr L, was an odd figure. Little to none knew of his true nature, but he had been known for as a bloody miracle worker. Yet the man was seemly more then a little odd, a little erratic, the bloody lad lived on a _island_ for peak's sake.

So here he was. A man on a mission, paddling away in a tiny wooden rowboat. This is where his life had ended up. He'd usually always had a way with the ocean, but right now he couldn't feel anything other then dread. He'd been rowing for what? An hour now? The Zee captin who lended him the boat warned him of the rockly cliff around the island, and the further her went, the worse the horrible feeling in his gut began to stir. Fog clouded nearly everything, like a thick blanket among the Zee leaving unsure at best and completely lost at worst. 

Where the hell was he? He wasn't even sure anymore. But all he could do was push further on.

\--

Humans had always interested The Doctor. They where squishy. And small. And pink. And all so emotional and stupid. But he loved them none the less. People often pondered if he himself would human, maybe, maybe not, either way he would never tell them, and they would never know. 

One thing was for sure thought, The Doctor was very good at taking care of them. People would visit him from all over, some Neathborn, others Surfacedwellers, but they all shared on trait; desperation. No one came to him unless they had no choice, no one really saw him as a first pick. He was the last straw, the final resort. And in a way, he'd find himself both offended and humored. Was his work really that bad? Or maybe he was simply a bit to much for most people? Either way, most rarely visited unless they made an emergency, but he was always more then happy to assit.

Thought it was this certian man that peeked his interested the most.

Seekers weren't unheard of on The Doctor's Part. Each one was different. Despite they all seemly shared one goal. And he kinda adored that about them. One woman he knew weeped everytime she awoken in a pool of her own blood, another man he meant, had come to find this was the best choice he'd ever made, well, until the self-mutilation of course.

But this one was different. He couldn't quite put a gloved finger on it. But he felt something was off. 

He found him sulking about the beach shores, muttering and trembling to himself. He looked terrible. White as a ghost. Unwashed, pale blonde hair in mattered knots. Bright red sunken into the back of his head. He could of once been described as handsome, but that meaning was long gone.

The Doctor learned his name was Jared. Jared Butcher. He'd been a simple fishermen and loving family man, but when one of his mates had gotten a bit to drunk one night, he ended up muttering on about something would ruin Butcher's life, permanently.

He was a bit, taken back he'd gotten a full of Dr L himself but all he could do was chuckle, this reaction was normal. He'd happily lead him back his house, eh, lighthouse. Well, it was really wasn't his lighthuse per say, but it wasn't like anyone else was using it. His thing about his home was how it left most people in sheer awe, thought this young man only could cough up one thing; fear.

\--

Butcher couldn't comprehend what he was looking at, _this_, was _The Doctor? _

Dear lord, he couldn't make heads or tails of what this thing was, let alone if it had a qualification in medical sciences. It couldn't be any short then seven feet at least, with long pale hair that fell to it's lower back, and a mask and a cloak that covered any indication of faical features. Thought, he could finally get behnd why they called it Lord. The well-tailored suit it wore and it's fine, lacey gloves made that more then clear.

This thing? This beast? This man? Scared Jared shitless, but it's voice, it's tone, the way it went about things. It was seemly trying as hard as friendly as possible, but even then, he still found himsef uneased and unsure what to do around it. It asked questons, it poked and prodded at him, it was doing everything a doctor _should_ be doing. But Butcher still kept his guard up.

"Tell me Mr Butcher, how long have your Seeking urges been going on for?" It's - no - his tone was warm, but calm.

"...A few years now, at least." He could only gulp as he forced himself to recall everytime he'd nearly snapped completely.

"Hm, and how long have you urges for blood been?"   
  
"Around the same time as the latter." His voice was quite, soft.

The monster would tap it's chin despite the wooden mask it wore. It was thinkin. "Well, Mr Butcher, I must say your a very ineresting case indeed." Dr L would chuckle darkly. 

"It is completely normal for Seekers to feel a need to consume and eat human flesh, whether it be themselves or others around them." The Doctor would simply put it. " What isn't normal, is, uh, well the teeth." He'd open Butcher's mouth again with his hands - without asking no less - taking another look at his almost shark-like fangs he'd been hiding.

Jared seem less then impressed about being manhandled so much, but he couldn't complain. He was meant to be helping him, right? This would be helping him right?  
  
"..S-So.." Jared would try to sputter, trying to remove Dr L's hands from his mouth, _again_. "Can you fix this? Can you fix me?

"Well, yes and no."

_"What?"_

"I can't, fix this, not completely, but I can help monitor it, keep it to the downlow."

"..Please." The smaller figure removed himself from the chair he'd been sitting in, looking at the other directly, in what, he assumed was his eyes. "You have to help me fix this, myself, me, _please_." He looked desprate, pathetic, he knew he did. But he hoped the Dr L would at least take pity on him.  
  
"Well, I do have one idea."

"...Yes?"

"You, work for _me_."

".._.**What?!**_"  
  
"It's quite simple really." The Doctor would explain, wiping his hands on his suit. "I can help keep an eye on you if your constantly in my super vision, and also uh.."  
  
"..I've always wanted a bulter."


End file.
